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RPlog:Celebration of Truth
---- Command Deck - CMS Reannon Calder (LPD-114) During 'slow' periods, the Command Deck is a busy place. During a full-fledged crisis, it is an exercise in controlled chaos, for it is the nerve centre of the ship. Unlike the bridges of many warships (particularly of Imperial design), there is no air of pretentiousness here. Utilitarian decore, a colour scheme of battleship grey, and dim, eerie lighting combine to produce a bunker-like feel. A bank of sloped transparisteel slit windows is set into the front armor of this superstructure, allowing one a view of the expanse of the ship's bow. These armored windows are quite thick, giving one the (quite accurate) impression that this section has been afforded a rather exceptional amount of armor. The command deck is literally packed with consoles, viewscreens, and situation boards, casting their spectral glow across the faces of the crew attending them. Stations are laid out by sections, many with two crew sharing the same task. The two helm stations are situated at the fore end, directly beneath the bank of windows, with astrogation stations laid out behind it. Sensor Operations, Electronic Warfare Operations, Gunnery, and other important stations are arranged around the Captain's station. Behind this is Command and Control room, situated in a windowed 'booth' with a large holographic situation map and several communications consoles, providing the shipboard detachment of the Expeditionary Force's command element the facilities by which to run a small war. The blur of stars streaking past the forward view screen signals the exit from hyperspace and the return of the Reannon Calder returns to normal space as it enters the Trandosha system. The entry into system is immediately followed by a series of methodical sensor sweeps that scan the system and the planet and carve it up into neat segments for examination. The raw data is reviewed as it comes in, Lynae taking a look at it as well while dividing her attention to the view of the planet while quietly directing the ship towards the planet to assume a standard docking orbit. Bakrak exits the turbolift as the ship exits hyperspace. The Dug is back in his normal boring, drab, uniform. Bakrak glances around. "So, what is we doing here? Shoot down TIEs?" Lynae allows a brief smile to form on her face, a fleeting expression of appreciation for Bakrak's humor, "No. This isn't Imperial space that we're stepping into. This is independent held territory. Very close to the borders of Republic territory, actually. But it's outside their boarders, so there's a different set of rules and protocol to adhere too. Trandosha is an independent world, they're a militant race with a culture and organization built around their militant structure. There's a good dose of data in the ships computer regarding this planet and it's culture. I do not recommend randomly picking a fight with a Trandoshan, they engage in combat as easily as you hop onto HM743's cargo arms." Bakrak grunts at Lynae. "Strong warriors?!? I could use a real challenge." Bakrak seems happy with this idea for some reason. A glutton for punishment, he definitely is. "What are we doing here?" Deciding to answer this in the easiest manner possible, Lynae simply pulls up the news feed and plays it for those on the bridge Hsskhor, Trandosha: The Trandoshan Government and the Seekers of the Truth have just finalized plans for a new inter-planetary government. As a result the Trandoshans have granted land and resources to a new Theocratic Republic of Truth that will place its capital on Trandosha. The accord was met and the leader of this republic voted in by an early council meeting of Trandoshans and a few other outer rim planets was the High Priest Tantrix who will act as the Chief Councilor for the interim government. Once the holo-vid clip concludes Lynae adds, "This High Priest Tantrix," she cues up the image of the Priest for identification purposes, "is the fellow that's heading up this movement. He's invited the heads of state from the neighboring systems and from all valid and legitimate governments to send a representative. There will be a week long celebration on planet." And speaking of the arms in question, they're on their way up to the bridge, having completed a tour of the ship's maintenance ducts, and crossed every 't', as well as dotting every lower-case 'j'. It takes its work seriously. The machien enters the room via an access tunnel under the middle of the floor, which it opens slowly, to make sure it isn't tossing anyone about unneccesairily, and salutes, because the bridge almost invariably has someone on it that it ought to salute. It arrives just in time to hear the news reading itself out. "A Theocratic government?" it asks. "Should I be pleased, or should I start knitting up some asbestos pants?" Bakrak scratches under his snout as he listens over the holo-vid clip. "Ok... why am I here?" The Dug seems a bit confused. "Just fighter escort?" "You've all been selected for a variety of reasons. The chief ones being intelligence, creativity, your powers of observation and the various skills that accompany the first three." Lynae responds to HM743's salute with a precise one of her own, having stepped out of the way once the access hatch began to move, tilting her head towards the droid with another brief smile in response to the droids comments. "These are a military people and the best way to greet a warlike culture is to bring some of our own warriors. To that end we've brought along three facets of the CDU military. Naval personnel, Marines and support command. Those are three facets of our military structure that we can present and introduce to the representatives of this world. You're not just a fighter pilot, Bakrak, in fact, no one on this mission is what could be called 'light' between the ears. We want you to take a look around, get an impression of the people. Try not to get into too many bar fights, but if you MUST," she pauses and gives a slow look around, "then win." Bakrak smiles as Lynae gives him the clearance to get into an occassional bar fight. "I will not lose!" Bakrak responds emphatically. Everything else Lynae seemed to have to say has gone in one ear and out the other. "I'm not entirely confident in my ability to make a good impression, in the field of hitting people with chairs," says the droid, for obvious reasons. "Nubudo here? He'll make a good impression. And I'd certainly expect any of our Marines to win, unless the locals here are nine feet tall and have six arms." Another one of those brief smiles forms on Lynae's face, "They're not nine feet tall or equipped with six arms. But they are a formidable race all the same. Now," she turns to the ships watch officer and goes through the protocol of turning the command of the ship over to the officer then leads the way to the turbolift. Central Starport -- Hsskhor Trandosha Trandosha shares the same star as Kashyyyk, actually in a closer orbit than its neighbor. The starport is illuminated by an imposing star and activities continue throughout its twenty-five hour day. Scores of transports and cruisers park in assigned spots along an elevated gray terminal building, while workers, hauler droids, and various tools of commerce move to and fro taking cargo and goods off and sometimes loading various vessels of all makes and models. From towers high above, uniformed Trandoshan troops armed with an array of sophisticated blaster rifles watch carefully for any disruptions. From the elevated landing field of the starport, the lit skyline of Hsskhor is plainly visible with a powerful white citadel looming in the distance. est leads to Main Thoroughfare -- Hsskhor: Trandosha. SCENE: Festival - Trandosha is the site of a massive festival. Decorations hang from all buildings. Drums beat in the distance along with various instruments playing as traditional dances and activities flourish. Dozens upon dozens of different species explore the city and bring their own cultural traditions to blend into the festivities. Beings in white garb pass out religious texts and invite people to seek truth. Hsskhor at night was cool, a cool steady breeze blows across the grasslands into the city and through the starport. Below where the ships land, the city rests lit by lights and brighter than any normal day as bonfires burn and drums ring out across the city as the festival begins to pick up speed. Music, dancing, good drinks, even hunting parties spread out through the region to celebrate the happenings on world. A first step into galactic prominence. With the new found party atmosphere, a taste of security also wets the pallets of the Trandoshans as they were also suddenly burdened with the security of a fledge-ling Galactic Government. Security is especially tight now in port as beings are searched for illegal weapons and are asked to keep most all of their heavy equipment and armors stowed on the ship. If they allowed the populations to have more guns and equipment than security forces there would be problems. Beings of all races silently stand in security checkpoint lines with VIPs and other more high profile visitors getting a lighter hand as to be diplomatically courteous. Standing among the checkpoints where beings in white robes, dozens of a variety of races speaking about their religion and ideas of truth and passing out materials for it. Setting the Quick Fix down on the indicated landing pad, the current pilot of the ship studies the sensor readings and does a 'nose count' of the ships in the immediate area and adds that scan to the ones already being compiled. Security measures being what they are, for an official visit of this nature the regular standards for their usual ambassadorial type folk would be rigorous enough. However, carrying the Presav himself adds another layer of caution and measure, the sort that presents a no nonsense attitude and conveys the simple fact that 'fun and games and a sense of humor' are all things that are not appreciated by the individuals whose job it is to ensure the necessary measures. Powering down the ship, Lynae stands and hands the control of the ship over to a waiting pilot who will be on hand to return the shuttle to the ship as needed. Making her way aft she speaks briefly with the trio of beings she'd hand selected for this portion of the arrival festivities. After explaining again the rough outline of why they're here she leads the way out of the ship and into the starport. Wide-eyed wonder would describe the expression on the droid's face, save that it's optic mounts are always the same size, and it has the most expressionless face this side of a bivalve. The machine is in what passes for a standard uniform by its own personal standards. As it is the only droid in all of Caspar that wears clothing, and the only member of the CDU military shaped as it is, this is pretty much whatever it wants, provided it looks fairly officiel and is functional enough to work in. So no floral prints. The machine steps out behind Dr. Cassius, striding smartly. Its optic mountsmove around a great deal, as it tries to get good images of as many types of creature and modes of dress as it can manage. Bakrak follows behind Lynae in standard duty issue uniform for the CDU starfighter corp. The Dug looks around him as he steps down the ramp and onto a planet he has never been to previously. For once, Bakrak is able to keep his mouth shut... at least for now. Sadim also follows behind Lynae, he too wearing his CDU naval uniform. He remarks to the others he is with, "We must be the only officers in the CDU navy who never actually spend time in CDU space" The Trandoshans near the VIP check points look up toward the new arrivals. A squad of them and a few droids approach with the elegance of their species and move toward their perceived leader, Lynae. The head of the squad as large with orange scales he looks down with his yellow eyes that can peer into infared and states plainly in basic, "Ssstate your busssinesss and pressent credentialsss" His clawed hand holding up a datapad to type in information. The others in the squad stand back at a respectable distance in a readied position in case things got out of hands, the droids, modeled similarly off the interrogation droids the Empire used, but instead with a large assortment of scanning equipment instead of means of torture glide quietly around the group giving them all a look over. Lynae offers a subtle tilt of her head in greetings before replying, "Lt Commander Cassius, commander of the CMS Reannon Calder representing the Caspian Democratic Union as the ranking officer in charge of establishing contact and security procedures," she replies while handing over a data slip to the leader of the squad. She has to tilt her head back a bit so that she can meet the yellow eyes of the orange scaled Trandoshan and takes the opportunity to study the Trandoshan for a moment. She tilts her head then to indicate her companions, "Cadet Bakrak, Lieutenant Gnick and HM743." The CDU droid offers a hand to one of the polished, floating many-armed orbs, "Hello," it says to the other droid, "This looks like quite the party. Mind if I ask when you get off duty? We could go somewhere and discuss algorythmic siuational analysis." No, machines do not flirt. There is no reason for them to. But 743 has a great love of cognitive dissonance, as this tests the situational analysis abilities of others. Sadim politely nods to the Trandoshan welcoming committee when he is introduced by the Lieutenant Commander. "Quite a lovely planet you have here." The lead Trandoshan looks over the data slip running it through a machine at his side for verification of authenticity and stand silently for several minutes unblinkingly looking down at Lynae before his small machine beeps an affirmative. They no doubt ran their ship's idea and story through a database and calls were made to beings and returned and then broadcasted within the moments. The squad leader nods silently, "Vissssitation rightsss approved." he pulls the dataslip back and stamps it and hands it too Lynae. "You're marked as ambasssssadorial sssstaff and allowed to carry sssmall armsss. However, pleassse contact the authoritiesss in cassse of emergenciesss." He advises and gestures for the group to pass through the port, "The White Citadel issss the central location for all governmental ssstaff to meet the new government." The droid's own photo receptors turn toward HM743 with its own gaze and beeps out a serious that translates as /No/ and /Obey the law/. "Thank you," Lynae says with another one of those subtle nods of respect, her gaze briefly shifting towards the overly well behaved Dug then towards the Droid and lastly to Sadim before she fights the smile that threatens as she translates the binary. "Small arms," she reiterates with another nod, a tone of measured precision in her voice before she gives the immediate surroundings a sweeping gaze then, "we appreciate your hospitality and look forward to observing and participating in your festival," all a bit of form reply but she indicates for the group to move towards the portal and out of the way so that the next group can be processed. HM743 chirps back in response, /Of course. Causing interstellar incidents goes against my programming./ It would mile at the lead Trandoshan, if not for a lack of lips, "Thank you, good sir," it says, after running a quick biometric scan that gives it at least some confidence in aserting that the being it is addressing is male. It then follws Dr. Cassius as directed. Expressing the signs of mild amusement, Sadim looks on at the brief interactions that both Lynae and HM743 engage in before following them as they move beyond the processing area. "This visit should prove very interesting." The comment stated in a low tone and not obviously directed towards anyone.